The Pharmaceutical Journal Vol 267 No 7163 p306
1 September 2001

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Warts and all
Heedless of grammar
Lucky lady

Warts and all

Oliver Cromwell, when having his portrait painted by Sir Peter Lely in the mid-17th century, is reported to have remarked: “Mr Lely, I desire you would use all your skill to paint my picture truly like me, and not flatter me at all; but remark all these roughnesses, pimples, warts, and everything as you see me; otherwise I will never pay a farthing for it.” Warts, as I observed before (PJ, 14 April, p490), have attracted a mass of folklore, and have continued to intrigue people who cannot understand why they resist treatment but disappear of their own accord when they think fit.

In a comment on my previous observations, a correspondent has pointed out to me a few more curious facts. Although warts may be longstanding, they do not induce antibodies as might have been expected, and seem to be screened in some way unknown from the operation of the immune system. This situation may persist for years. Then, without rhyme or reason, the patient starts to experience itchy pain, this marking antibody formation and the beginning of the end of the offending lesion. Spontaneous healing then occurs without any need for further intervention.

The folklore experts assure me that there are more reputedly successful cures for warts than for any other minor ailment. How they arise is mysterious, although in Ulster it is said that brown foam from the seashore causes them to develop, usually in symmetrical pairs.

Some recommended remedies are disgusting. The 13th century book of the Physicians of Myddvai prescribes cutting off the head of an eel and smearing the wart with the blood, then burying the head deep in the earth. Treatment with blood of pigs, lizards and tortoises sounds no more attractive.

In ancient Egypt pigeon dung mixed with vinegar was recommended as an application. The Syriac Book of Medicines, possibly written in the third century BC by a Greek-speaking physician studying in Alexandria and belonging to the school of Hippocrates, makes the observation that “Aphrodite produces scabies, leprosy, warts, eruptions of sores, paralysis, and blotches and pimples”, although why the goddess of love should concern herself with warts is not clear. Such statements only add to the mystery.

Since viral warts eventually disappear spontaneously, any vigorous attempts to remove them are probably unsafe and pointless. Herbal and chemical remedies and the knife are not recommended; the true remedy is patience.

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Heedless of grammar

The word “grammar” has been in our language since the 14th century, and signifies “pertaining to letters”. Its archaic form “gramarye” can refer either to learning simply or to occult learning, something denied the common herd of humans.

In classical times the Greeks and Romans used the word grammar to mean the entire study of literature, or what we call today philology. The modern restricted use is to “that department of the study of a language which deals with its inflexional forms or other means of indicating the relations of words to the sentence, and with the rules for employing them in accordance with established usage” (to quote the Oxford English Dictionary).

In these days of slapdash thinking and loose writing, we may easily forget that the accurate communication of ideas demands grammatical precision and that to neglect the study of language in favour of the more pressing things, like learning to push piles of paper from desk to desk and how to keep out of the grasp of lawyers and politicians, detracts from our culture and our very civilisation. Queen Elizabeth I’s tutor, Roger Ascham, in his treatise on classical education, ‘The Scholemaster’, published posthumously in 1570, commented: “Ye know not what hurt ye do to learning that care not for words, but for matter, and so make a divorce betwixt the tongue and the heart.” He goes on to write that from such neglect spring ill deeds — a dire warning.

The Irish priest, philologist and poet, Richard Chenevix Trench, noted in his book ‘On the study of words’ (1851): “Every man who has himself cared for the truth, and occupied himself in seeking it, is more or less aware how much of the falsehood of the world passes current under the concealment of words ...”. Of course, concealment is one thing, carelessness another, but both contribute to a culture with distorted values. We well know how “spin doctoring” is a political and social weapon, but tend to regard sheer carelessness of language as of minor significance. Personally, I find it intensely irritating, especially when our educators pass it over as something of low priority.

Moreover, our newspapers and our broadcast programmes are becoming an evil example to the youth we are claiming to educate. I am perpetually coming across “an algae” which is invading our waters, as if there were no such thing as a humble alga. Broadcasters are always talking of “die-secting”, when they mean dissecting. And I have almost given up hope of the entity known as a medium, now that it is commonly accepted that “the media” is singular. And “a data” commonly features in scientific journals that should know better. And to give “first priority” is a stupid idea when priority means putting something first.

Fundamentally, languages are living things, and it is good that they should undergo development from time to time. No one would wish to confine them within a straitjacket. Thus, we might tolerate a little confusion between pronouns when we use them in emphasis or for collectives. Personally, I am not happy about “the committee were unanimous”, when there is only one committee, or “the majority were in favour” when there is only one majority possible. But I have little objection to “it’s me” instead of the stilted “it is I” when the object is discriminatory emphasis. And I sympathise with the onlookers, who, when they spied the wicked jackdaw of Rheims: “Heedless of grammar, they all cried ‘That’s him!’”.

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Lucky lady

Fortunate is the woman who marries a practical chemist, for not only can he provide in times of scarcity most of the familiar toilet and domestic products, from lipstick to detergent, but he can also wash up and enjoy doing it. Few things are more difficult or challenging to wash as delicate, expensive chemical glassware.
— James Lovelock: ‘Homage to Gaia’ (Oxford: Oxford University Press; 2000).

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